WE TROD THE TAPA TRAIL
June 1995
Velez-Malaga is a small town about 3kms in land midway between Malaga and Nerja on the Eastern Costa del Sol in Southern Spain.We had been talking about it for months, the Tapa Trail, that is - we had read about it in The Market Place, (a local magazine), and hoarded the map so that one bright day we could gird our loins and set out on the famous Velez-Malaga Tapa Trail. But the bright day still had to dawn when Billy and Cath arrived for their annual visit with us. Now, far be it from me to suggest that Billy and Cath like to sample the local wine; far, far be it from me, but their visit spurred us on and last Wednesday, the six of us set off - Jean and Terry (with whom we explore a different area of our region, each Wednesday), Billy, Cath and, of course, darling and me. As our car easily seats six, I was elected driver - as darling, being the only other person insured to drive our car, felt he would be failing in his duty to posterity if he failed to sample each and every local brew!! None of us was familiar with Velez-Malaga, but at noon, map in hand, we set off from Sayalonga, all wearing our comfortable walking shoes and me dressed in a frock that wouldn't show the stains, as tapas have an unfortunate habit of leaping down the front of whatever I am wearing. The only place in Velez I knew was the big petrol station, so I headed for there and parked the car. Like a good boy scout, Terry took charge of the map and we all followed hot on the trail of the perfect tapa. So intense were we on our quest that we even failed to stop at a wonderful 100-peseta shop! (Pound Shop) Now I am not questioning Terry's map reading skills, or even suggesting that he had the map upside down, but the first bar we arrived at was number 14 on the list!! It was the Rincon de Antonio and it looked far too up-market to be serving reasonably priced anything, let alone tapas. It was in the comer of a truly beautiful courtyard, which featured a tinkling fountain surrounded by lovely arches, and the tables were covered in cloths: a sure sign, we thought, that we were in the wrong place. As I was the driver and therefore would be steering clear of alcohol and also as I was the only one who spoke any Spanish, I was also elected to take charge of all the ordering and bill settling. I went in and enquired as to whether they served tapas and a most pleasant, not to mention handsome (always a good sign, I think), barman pointed me to the tapas and told me what they were. We had six drinks and six assorted tapas, which just as The Market Place had said, were presented beautifully with crisps and short, crunchy bread sticks. We sat in the sun, eating and drinking and generally enjoying ourselves - indeed we enjoyed it so much we discussed staying instead of following the rest of the trail. But we decided to move on and I went to do the bill settling bit. I had expected it to be pricey, but was amazed to find that the bill for this delightful half-hour was a mere (4.75p) - indeed, everyone was pleasantly surprised.This time, Billy and darling assisted Terry in the map reading, but they were more hindrance than help and we shortly arrived at our next stop. This was bar number 12 on the list, the Bohemia. When we arrived at a little after one o'clock, it was closed, but when I rattled the door a face appeared and said they would be open in a few minutes, so we settled down to wait. At 1.15 the doors were thrown open and we trooped in. There was no menu but the barman could not have been more helpful, telling me what he had to offer (food wise, I hasten to add), and I requested a little of everything to be shared between the six of us. We took our drinks out into the sunshine of a lovely avenue with flowering trees down the centre, and enjoyed a cheerful 10 minutes watching a small workman carefully sweeping up the fallen blossom, putting it into a small bucket and then emptying this into a large bin. He then moved on to the next tree and by the time he had repeated his task at the second tree, the gentle breeze had surrounded the first tree with blossom again - so we felt there was no fear of him becoming unemployed! The barman then appeared with three plates, each bearing a tiny bread roll which had been cut into two and filled with delicious bacon and melted cheese and while we fell on these he went back to bring a further three plates bearing equally tasty snacks, and then yet another three plates. He stayed with us as we all voiced approval of his offerings. Everything was so tasty we couldn't decide which was best and the barman was so friendly it was an added bonus. Again, we were tempted to stay, but stuck to our plan and moved on after I had settled the (5.12p) bill. Combined efforts at map reading took us to bar number 13 on the list, the Oasis, and this was closed on Wednesdays. So, in the spirit of true adventurers, we strode on and reached bar number 4, close to the municipal market. This was called the Mauco -but had no name sign outside. Again we ordered our six drinks and tapas. The list said to sample the ham, but we decided to try other fare. The tapas were average and two bartenders served us, who seemed to be having a competition as to who could go the longest without smiling. We finished our drinks and settled the (4.75p) bill. I was rewarded with a weak smile and a general 'Adios " in the direction of our party - don't think I'll bother with this one again. Our next stop was at number 2 on the list - the Taberna Majarillo. What a different atmosphere. The bartender was so welcoming and we carried on a long conversation, competing with the television, which blared from the corner. When I told Antonio we were from Sayalonga he told us that the Alba supermarkets in Torre del Mar were owned his family and I vowed never to shop anywhere else. The bar was very small and very basic and again there was no menu and no tapas on display, so I ordered an assortment of what he offered and this promptly arrived, all piping- hot and freshly cooked. It was delicious, and we were again loath to move on. But the best part was still to come. When I asked for the bill, Antonio told me it was (2.85p) - no, that isn't a typographical error - (2.85p)!! We bought him a beer, promised to come back "otro dia " and set forth again.Bar number 3, La Parrilla, was the next we found, so you will note that our map reading skills had not improved any. But we were having such a great time no one really cared; not even me, as by this time I had discovered Bitter Kas and it tasted so much like Campari, that I felt as if I was "having a drink". So much so, that I asked to see the bottle to reassure myself it was "sin alcohol". A friendly Spanish lady served us, she looked very sultry and I half-expected her to leap on the bar and start to dance flamenco! Yet again, the tapas were delicious - most of us opting for the tortilla .My only complaint-and this, an entirely personal complaint, the stools were not made for ladies with big bums and I feel the impression they made on my bum will be with me for life! The bill here was (3.65p): we were having a great day out the small bills added to our general feeling of euphoria as we set off in search of yet another bar.Heartbreak loomed!! Bars number 5,6,7 and 8 were all closed. Hell, Terry's map reading skills had so improved that we found four bars in the correct order... and they were all closed. It was hot; we were footsore and in dire need of a drink, so we left the recorded trail and went to Bar Amarillo - which was in the avenue close to the Bohemia, our second port of call. Here we had just six drinks, as we were anxious to resume the trail. The bill for the drinks alone was (4.13p) and in view of the wonderful value elsewhere, we felt somewhat cheated, although the staff were friendly and the toilets clean. Somewhat disheartened, we set off in the general direction of the car and bar number 9 on the trail, the Bar el Cordobos. We were particularly keen to find this bar as it had also been recommended to Jean and Terry, by Francisco, who had worked on their swimming pool. Terrys skill with the map is quite impressive though how he is managing we don`t know as the map is in several pieces, not to mention the fact that it has been scrawled and dribbled upon. Terry is sure that by now we should have reached the Bar el Cordobos. We all pore over the map-even those of us who can't quite see it straight- and decide we have missed it. We retrace our steps, but the only thing there is the Bar Cataluna; so we go in, as by now we are desperate for liquid refreshment. This bar is large, clean and quite clinical and we are informed it was previously the El Cordobos -three cheers for Terry and the map!! We have our usual six drinks and mixed tapas and although we are the only people in the place, op to sit right underneath the blaring TV. Do you think eating tapas affects the brain, as it surely couldn't be the mixture of beer and wine... could it? The tapas are fine, but we miss the atmosphere of other people. The TV can't really make up for it, so I settle the (3.62p) bill and, souls uplifted by the quality, not to mention the economy and general bonhomie of it all, we walk on. By now, striding is out of the question- shoes that seemed comfortable in the morning are pinching now and darling is wearing new shoes purchased en route. Darling has suggested that the price of the new shoes should be added to the price list that Jean, my secretary, is keeping and divided between the three couples at the end of the day, but some spoil-sport has vetoed the idea!!The petrol station looms into sight and, map thrust into pocket, Terry points the way to Restaurante Florida, number 11 on the list. In we go - it is packed and in true Spanish fashion the barman is serving a dozen people at the same time. The atmosphere is not the same here as in the smaller bars, but it has to be said the tapas were excellent and, of course, so were the drinks. Here we had seven drinks - I had two - and the usual six tapas, and the bill was (4.63p). I settled the bill; Jean recorded it - my secretary has done sterling work all day, recording prices and comments in a book from her very copious handbag. We hazard guesses as to what exactly Jean has in this handbag, but nobody is brave enough to look inside it for fear of some beast pulling us into its depths! We cross the road into bar number 10, Bar Juan Jose again, this is big, full, loud and lacking the atmosphere of the smaller bars, but as darling attacks his meatballs he pronounces this the best tapa of all. And although they were absolutely delicious, it has to be said that darling is looking through beer-hazed glasses. The bill here is 4.00p, and after it is paid and noted we re-cross the road and everyone scrambles into the car. We are well into the evening now, but we are all having such a good time nobody wants to call it a day. So we set off for Torre del Mar, vowing to come back another day to try the bars that were closed. Billy and Cath protest when we say we might come next week, as they are returning home in a few days and want the delight postponed until their next visit. I park the car in Torre and we head for a fish bar in the Post Office Street. It is called La Cueva and it is always packed when we pass, but we have never been inside. It is just opening up as we arrive, and we are a bit disappointed to see how clinical it all is, but when we are presented (by a very miserable-looking barman) with the menu, in English, we decide to try one of everything on the tapa menu, accompanied by a communal plate of chips and, naturally, the obligatory drink. We perch, unsteadily, on the bar stools and try the eight varied tapas - they are good, and by now the place is absolutely packed, so we decide to move on to our last port of call, after paying the (6.62p) bill.We drive to La Caleta and park outside a bar called Los Colonias. In we go and again we unsteadily mount the bar stools. We order drinks; by this time the ordering is getting a bit ragged and everyone just seems to shout out when they want another, so in all we had 15 drinks here. The tapas were wonderful - so much so, that darling changed his mind and said this was the best - he had chicken wings in a creamy sauce. I must admit that here I made the only cock-up of the day; when three tapas arrived I thought that they were all liver and distributed them. Cath kept saying through gulps of wine, "This doesn't taste like liver, it tastes like beef." I told her she was probably eating ox liver and that was why it tasted like beef, but then I noticed darling didn't have his beef and Jean had said she would have the delicious liver that nobody else had claimed. Slap my legs, I didn't know my liver from my beef I had to hang my head in shame!! The liver eaters, not to mention those who had dipped their bread into others' dishes, all kept on telling poor Cath how delicious the liver was, so I ordered another-but there was none left. So now Cath will definitely have to come on another Tapa Trail, just to taste the liver!! Again, the staff here were very friendly and it was all smiles as I paid the bill (12.75p), for 15 drinks and six delicious tapas: a wonderful end to a wonderful day.As we climbed back into the car for the journey home, we were all agreed that this was one of the best days out we had ever had. I said, "We walked a fair way."Cath said, (and we all agreed), "The tapas everywhere were delicious." By the time we arrived home we had been out eating, drinking and enjoying ourselves for ten and a half hours at approximately 9.50p per head. Yes, I think we will long remember the day we trod the Tapa Trail.The prices are in Sterling.Original story written by S. Jones U.K.
Visitor Number 4563
|
|
